I’ve taken over the gardening since the virus reached our shores.

There were monsters everywhere, mostly in the shape of many robust Phormiums and boney Cotoneasters. Using my shears and hairdressing skills, I took them all to task. And now they’re clipped, trimmed, and far less scary.

This activity had two positive effects: it kept me fit and, boy, does the garden look better.

It was therapeutic mentally, too.

The virus, that’s chosen our species as its favourite snack, has got in amongst us on more than one level. It insidious unknown nature has attacked us where it hurts the most: our gregarious, bonding needs. Even socially dysfunctional introverts like myself are affected by the curtailing of meeting up with and hugging loved ones.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m all in favour of staying safe and well by masking up and keeping our distance from each other while the virus continues to run rampant around our country. My point is, we have to acknowledge the extra damage – in some cases long-term physical damage – this virus has done to our mental well-being. Being hyper-vigilant day after day, week after week, month after month is exhausting.

Getting the garden under control was a useful way to externalise my fear and, yes, fury against the devastating effects that this monstrous virus has wrought around this planet.

Stay safe and well, dear friends.

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